A Darker Hollow
by startswithhope
Summary: CS canon divergence/missing scene set between "Dark Hollow" and "Think Lovely Thoughts" in Neverland. Can't say much more than that without spoiling the ending...


Focusing on the sounds is easier, the cacophony of foreign insects and wind blowing unexpectedly cold through the thick trees, while eerie, don't scare her as much as her thoughts. It's all too much, fear, anger, confusion, attraction, revulsion, all jumbled up much like the thick jungle surrounding their sleeping rescue party. Taking her turn at the watch, the solitude is welcome, giving her physical, if not emotional distance from Neal _and_ Hook. The events at Dark Hollow, her magic's reaction to _him_ being in danger, him more than Neal, it's left her unsettled. She doesn't need some mystical force she never asked for acting on behalf of feelings she isn't ready to deal with. Not now, not here, not until they're back home…safe with Henry.

 _Maybe not even then…_

She knows herself well enough to admit that.

A footfall too heavy for an animal jolts her to her feet, her hands curling tight around Neal's cutlass as she prepares for an attack. Groaning inwardly when she realizes, she hates herself for the pinpricks of awareness that creep up her neck before he even comes into sight, goddamn magic or pheromones or what the hell ever it is.

"I know you're cross with me love, but there's no need to resort to that level of violence."

His good hand is wrapped firmly around his flask as he emerges from the brush, his inky hair disheveled in ways that take her back to their _shared moment_ , the thick strands soft between her fingertips as she lost herself in that damn kiss. Why the hell does he have to be so infuriatingly attractive… _all the damn time?_

Dropping back down to sit on her rock, she uses the point of the cutlass to draw nonsense in the dirt, anything to keep her attention away from him as he draws closer.

"I thought you were Pan. And I'm not _cross with you_. I'm just not interested."

She expects him to banter back, but he doesn't utter a word or even make a sound. Sheer curiosity sends her eyes reluctantly his way, expecting to at least see a raised eyebrow or an obnoxious knowing smirk. Instead, she finds his attention focused somewhere off in the distance, his flask resting against his lower lip in distracted reflection. The tip of his tongue peeks out for a moment, capturing a tiny drop of his rum from the flask before disappearing again, the quick action stirring something unwanted deep in her belly. His eyes drift back to her and she doesn't look away, keeping her face stoic as he regards her in a way that feels foreign and calculating.

"Perhaps I should have taken his deal?"

Her back straightens as he takes a step towards her, every muscle in her body tensing as she tries to make sense of what he's just said.

"Whose deal?"

"Pan's."

The name is like a slice through her heart and she's back on her feet, incredulous as he comes to a stop no more than a foot away. Hurt and confusion tinge the anger brewing hot in her veins, at him, herself, for beginning to trust. Tightening her knuckles around the handle of the cutlass once again, she closes half the distance between them until her cold breath mingles heavy with his.

"What are you talking about, _Hook_?"

The oceans of his eyes are iced over, the warmth that has always lingered there when he's looked at her before gone as he cocks his head just slightly in condescension.

"The little demon offered me a way off this island, back on Dead Man's Peak. I chose to save your father, chose _you_. I'm beginning to think I miscalculated my odds, leaving me holding a losing hand."

His confession is staggering in its duplicity. Choosing to ignore yet another confession of his vulnerability where she's concerned, she lashes out at the rest.

"So, because I chose Henry over you, you're ready to go join the enemy, turn your back on me just like everyone always has? I was right…you're nothing but a _pirate_."

"Aye, love, that's all I'll ever be, just like you will never be more than a lost little girl, stuck here on this cursed island, where you belong. It's a bloody good thing Regina is here somewhere, at least she has a chance at saving _her_ son."

The force of her slap sends him staggering backwards, pain shooting down her fingertips as stubborn tears build traitorously behind her eyes. When his gaze shifts from the jungle floor back to her, the faintest hint of a smile curves his lips before he turns away, the long leather of his duster rustling the leaves as he disappears into the trees away from the camp the last she hears of him.

She wants to chase him down. She wants to run far away. She wants to cry. She wants to scream.

 _She sits._

She sits and stares in the direction he has left her, his words sinking in like venom, filling the cracks she'd been working so hard to mend with poisonous truth. Cracks she only realizes now his belief in her had started to close, but now, are left gaping and raw. It was all a lie, a pirate's ruse to steal a treasure, her heart and her trust. What makes it all worse is in the depth of her broken soul, she knows what he's said is right. Regina has what it takes to fight Pan, knows how to control her magic; will be the one to save Henry and get him home. She wanted to believe that she could lead them, be this _Savior_ , whatever the hell that means. A sinking feeling begins to wash over her that perhaps she really doesn't have what it takes…

"Swan?"

The unmistakable voice from the camp behind her steals the breath from her lungs, the cutlass falling from her hands and clattering loudly against rock as she jumps to her feet. Hook is there, standing just on the edge of the camp, minus his coat and looking slightly rumpled from sleep. The concern on his face such a sharp contrast from mere minutes before, leaving her feeling off balance and confused.

"Emma, what is it? Are you alright?"

Her jaw drops in disbelief at his audacity to pretend as if he doesn't know; that he wasn't just here ripping her to shreds. The tentative step he takes towards her breaks the last frayed thread of her control.

"Stay the hell away from me and my family, you bastard!"

His face falls as he halts in his tracks. The hand he'd been reaching towards her slowly inching back downwards until it comes to rest in a fist beside his hip.

"What the bloody hell have I done to deserve that?"

"I'm not in the mood for games, Hook. Go find Pan and take your deal. You're not wanted here."

She's beginning to wonder just how strong that rum of his is, as he is looking at her as if she has three heads, his face a mix of hurt and utter confusion.

"David told you about that? I assumed he had chosen to keep it between us…"

Hook turns his head back towards the camp where David is sleeping with Snow, his head shaking slightly side to side in what looks like disappointment, or embarrassment, _or both_. Beginning to feel lightheaded at the track of this conversation, Hook's words and actions making so little sense she can't help but wonder if she's losing her mind, she turns her back on him and begins to talk more to herself than him.

"David? He knew? What the hell is going on?"

With her hands pressed tight to her temple and her thoughts so loud she wants to scream, she doesn't hear him approach until he's suddenly standing right behind her.

"Emma, please turn around."

His voice is so calm, soothing even, dragging the bitterness she feels straight to her tongue.

"Why? So you can tell me how useless I am again? No need, I already know."

She knows she should, but she doesn't fight him when his hand and hook are suddenly gripping her waist and maneuvering her until the toes of her boots are practically resting on his. His hand keeps a firm grasp above her hip as the curve of his hook settles beneath her chin, the cool metal pushing up against her skin as he forces her downcast eyes to meet his. The warmth that had gone missing before is back, the ice having melted to a darker blue, slightly stormy but resolute as he refuses to let her break his gaze.

"Emma Swan, whatever you think has occurred between us this night, I assure you, it has been a trick of some kind. Never would I, _could I_ , deem you useless. You have to know that to be true, love."

Does she? Before a few moments ago, she certainly thought he felt that way. But how is she to know if this is real and not _that_? She isn't built for trusting people like this, he knows this, learned this with the clamping of handcuffs on top of a beanstalk.

That's it. She knows what to do.

"What question did you ask me when we were climbing the beanstalk together?"

He blinks at her question, obviously momentarily confused as to her query before she sees realization dawn, a small smile curving his lips before he answers.

"I asked you if you'd ever been in love."

Relief washes over her with such force she has to steady herself with her hands against his chest, a small sob releasing from her chest as she lets her eyes close and tries to calm her beating heart. There's no way anyone but Killian would have known the answer to that, as she has never spoken of it since.

"And I lied…"

His chuckle fills her with warmth, that swooping sensation suddenly welcome as the previously tilted world she'd stumbled into finally settles back on its axis.

"Aye…"

Slowly, she allows herself to look him in the eye; no longer fearful of who she will see.

"It was Pan, pretending to be you, it had to be. I can't believe I fell for it."

"Don't beat yourself up, love. I told you he was a bloody demon."

With great reluctance, she drops her hand from his chest, prompting him to release her waist and cast his gaze over her shoulder as if he's looking to see if Pan is out there lurking in the shadows.

"Killian?"

Her use of his first name draws his immediate attention back to her, his wide-eyed expression revealing how much hearing it has meant.

"Why didn't you take Pan's deal?"

She hates herself for asking, but needs to hear the answer, needs him to give her what only he can give. True to form, he doesn't waiver, instead inching ever closer, her body desperately wanting to sway into his orbit. His hand comes up to her cheek, his fingertips barely brushing her flushed skin as he gently tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

"You know why."

 _She does._

To his credit, he accepts her small smile as a sufficient response and tilts his head in a bow before dropping his hand and stepping to the side to pass her towards the jungle.

"I'll take the next watch, Swan. You should get some rest."

"Yeah…thanks"

Not knowing what else to say, she gives him one last look over her shoulder and begins to head towards the camp.

"Emma?"

Turning at the tentative tone in his voice, she sees the question in his eyes before he even asks it.

"Why do you think Pan pretended to be me?"

She has a moment of hesitation, but decides it isn't fair. He deserves the truth and the least she can do is give it to him in this one important moment.

"You know why."

Turning back to the camp, she leaves him without another word, knowing, _or hoping_ , he will understand that she has given him all she has to give.

/

 _A/N: Here's the prompt that was sent in that spawned this one: I love Neverland and I wanted a scene where pans shadow/pan was messing with Emma and came to her in the form of Killian. I feel like Pan would play games on both of them to see if either was a weakness for the other And try to distract Emma from Henry. **SUCH a great prompt that I knew I had to write this.**_


End file.
